shearer’s ghost
waves twice as big, twice as fast and twice as long.
Posts tagged ‘Slaughterhouse’
Dec 23
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the slaughterhouse, the cooking room.
A dark passageway, all the walls wet and over there a young man racking up a firehose. He watches you pass by. The smell in here is overpowering.
a home of bones and charnal dust
The high rafters of the cooking room hide platoons of giant rats; sleek, fat, black and fed to bursting from their nightly foraging from the split edges of the bags
doug, the hopperman
Doug stood up and backhanded him twice to the wall, all splintering glass now, and spilt beer and dumbfounded shock
the hide room
Lightless ponds that rise from time to time and issue a swell of virulent discontent from a deep rupture unmeasured.
the slaughterman
hooded men from the freezer rooms muffled up in layers of rags and old sacking, slaughtermen with their bare forearms and faces crusted with heavy sprays of blood, local toughs wearing scabbards full of razor edged knives.
a small town welcome ~ byron bay 1964
She leaves the café and locks up the front doors, then walks around you and climbs into the car. You notice that she has nice legs, and he is still standing there undecided, so you bleed a little onto the footpath in submission, waiting for him to go away.
petebowes.com 